


I Didn't Intend To Kiss You

by wily_one24



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Ficlet, psuedo sibling incest, tumblr fic prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wily_one24/pseuds/wily_one24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s your sister. And she’s not your sister. You have loved her from the time you were thirteen years old and you knew the true meaning of annihilation, from the time you felt the soft skin of her hands cupping your own, from the time the high pitched sound of <i>oh my god, Kara, don’t be such a freak</i> turned into <i>it’s okay, I’ve got you</i>. </p><p>She’s your sister, and she’s not your sister, and two weeks ago she had her tongue in your mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been asked to upload my tumblr prompts to AO3. I usually don't upload the ficlets because I think they're too short, but apparently that's going to change. Here goes, hope you like them. 
> 
> This is a combo of two prompts: "My nightmares are usually about losing you" and "I didn't intend to kiss you".
> 
> Warning: Some disturbing themes to start with, but it's over soon.

***  
“Nooo…. noooo!”

She is strong and trained, having spent years honing her fighting skills under J’onn and other DEO agents, disciplined in the way those focused on one objective usually are, and armored to the teeth in Kryptonite weaponry. 

Alex is all but unbeatable against a Kryptonian. 

And all her energy is focused on beating her sister down. 

Kara falls, face pained, and Alex grows with the imminent win as she pulls out the Kryponite sword. The same one that killed Astra. She can still feel the slick, thick slide of the weapon as it sliced through Astra’s ribs and wonders if it will be the same now. The thought is sickening and horrific and she wishes she could stop what’s happening, but nothing she tries is working. It’s like she’s watching herself from a distance, controlled by someone else.

“Alex!”

She watches Kara’s hand reach out, a pathetic plea, the woman sprawled on the ground, broken and beaten and fear in her eyes. Alex raises the sword. 

“Kara.” It’s a pant, begging for forgiveness, begging for Kara to rise and put her down, to stop the inevitable. “Please, Kara, no. I don’t… not like… please.”

But there is no saving grace, nothing to stop her own arm pushing forward and Alex cries out, a long, low moan of horror as the glowing green sword splits through Kara’s chest. 

This is not a simple death, this is no Astra falling daintily to the ground and giving her last words. 

Kara dies awfully, nightmarishly, grotesquely. Kara’s death is the stuff of horror films Alex has refused to watch since she was a teenager. 

Her skin dissolves, like bubbles bursting into sickly green ulcers that eat away at the flesh, her muscles melt and ooze off bones that begin to blacken, curling up and crumbling into ash until all Alex can do is feel the bile rising up in her throat as she stares at the stain on the bitumen that was once her sister. 

“Alex!” 

And she can still hear the woman’s voice, even after death, and she thinks she will be haunted forever. Thinks she deserves it. She wants to turn the sword around and kill herself, if it were not too good for the likes of her. How she could have done that, how she could have been responsible for such a heinous act is beyond…

“Alex, c’mon, wake up!”

Her eyes fly open and Alex has to fight the overwhelming nausea that threatens to explode out of her throat. Her hands fly out, trying to physically push the world away, and her feet scramble to push herself up and away. 

Until reality comes crashing back to her and she finds herself tangled in sheets, hair plastered to her neck, panting hard and desperate as she looks up into Kara’s eyes. Kara, who is looking down on her with scared, worried eyes. 

“Kara!” A gasp, a pant, a prayer. “You’re alive!”

The words should make no sense, but Kara’s expression is understanding. This is not the first nightmare Alex has had, it is not even the first she has had this week. 

It’s just the first that has felt so real. 

“I’m alive.” It’s not Kara’s words, but the calm tone she says them in that wash over Alex and help her breathe. “It’s okay, Alex, I’m here.”

Her head still shakes, denial and guilt and left over adrenaline stagnating in her mouth. Something in her expression must give away the seriousness of her terror, because a frown brings down the corners of Kara’s mouth. 

“I’m okay, Alex.”

She feels hands grab her own, feels a body settle on the bed next to her, feels her arms pulling up, and then Kara is placing Alex’s hands on her face. 

“Can you feel me? Alex? I’m ok.”

She can. Now that her nerves are picking up the warmth of Kara, the tactile sensation of skin underneath her own, her panic subsides. 

Once she has started, she cannot stop, her hands cup Kara’s cheeks, spread out over her neck, slide down shoulders and arms and back up again, touching every spare inch she can find. Her eyes follow them, drinking in the sight of her sister living, breathing, alive. So blessedly alive. 

It comes out of nowhere, following from sight and touch, the urge to pull Kara closer and smash their mouths together. Alex’s lips seek out the same reassurance of life, moving desperately over Kara’s. 

She feels Kara freeze in her grip and pulls back, ready to apologise, but it’s not enough, it will never be enough, and instead she peppers small kisses all over Kara’s face, her cheeks, her forehead, down to her neck until she’s nuzzling in the heat she finds there, hands holding Kara as close as she can. 

“I’m sorry. I’m’ sorry.” A desperate cry, a mantra, over and over again. “I’m so sorry Kara, I’m sorry. Please forgive me, I’m sorry.”

Fingers run through her hair, a gesture of reassurance, a tactile comfort. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Relax.”

Alex feels herself being pulled, shifted, adjusted, until Kara is lying down and cradling her against her side. 

“That must have been some nightmare, huh?”

Kara, always gentle, gives her an out if she needs it. Alex knows this. The question can be answered in different ways. She can brush it off, belittle it if she needs, or expand on it, let out what has her so freaked out. 

“You died.” And once the words cross her lips, Alex tightens her fingers around the waist they had settled on, almost bruising were Kara human in any way. “You died and I… I…”

The sob catches in her throat, large and choking. 

“That’s not the first time you’ve had that dream, though.”

“You don’t understand, my nightmares are usually about losing you. This time I did it, I killed you, under Myriad.”

“Shh.” There’s a soft kiss pressed to her forehead. “That didn’t happen. You know that.”

“I know.”

But it doesn’t change anything, not a single thing, just like Alex knows Kara will never let her actions under Red K go. Because it almost happened. Alex had been seconds away from killing Kara, whether she was in control or not. The consequences would have been the same. 

They lie in silence, in the dark; Alex closing her eyes and reveling in the rise and fall of Kara’s chest, knowing that Kara gets her own comfort from listening to her heartbeat. 

“Kara?” She says quietly, into the night, half hoping her sister is asleep. “I was a bit freaked out, you know.”

Kara gives a half-hearted little moan of acknowledgement. 

“I mean…” Alex bites the bullet and continues. “I didn’t intend to kiss you.”

The burst of sleepy laughter is a balm to her soul. 

“That was a surprise!”

Alex huffs, waits for a few seconds, then pulls the pillow out from under Kara’s head, smacking it back down on her face. 

Kara’s laugh turns into a cackle. 

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second prompt for this is: "How can anyone not be afraid of love?"

***

You lean with your back against the wall, arms crossed in front of yourself, waiting. You’ve sat in chairs too long already and your body is not made for inactivity, nerves jangling and urging you to move.

But you won’t move. Not yet. Not until…

The sound is soft, barely even there, but of course you catch it and you’re off the wall in a fraction of a second, already at Alex’s bedside. Twelve hours is too long and Alex has always been super human, more than you even, but every now and then the reminder slaps you in the face how incredibly fragile her human body is.

“Alex.” Her name is a sigh of relief from your tongue.

The way her eyes focus on you for a second, before flickering away is not. 

“Hey.” Her hand bats up weakly to the medical attendant adjusting her IV. “Get her out of here.”

You meet the eyes of the agent who has just been ordered by her superior officer to forcibly remove Supergirl from the room, a little wide and a lot reluctant, but you make it easy on her and slip out of the room. 

***

She’s your sister. And she’s not your sister. You have loved her from the time you were thirteen years old and you knew the true meaning of annihilation, from the time you felt the soft skin of her hands cupping your own, from the time the high pitched sound of _oh my god, Kara, don’t be such a freak_ turned into _it’s okay, I’ve got you_. 

She’s your sister, and she’s not your sister, and two weeks ago she had her tongue in your mouth. 

It’s not something you planned, but oh, it’s something you’ve dreamed about, something you’ve hidden. Hidden, like _don’t use your strength, Kara_ , like _the lead will help your vision, Kara_ , it’s _don’t hold so tight, Kara_ , and _don’t be so big, so powerful, so true to yourself, Kara_. 

Act human, Kara, and humans don’t like their sisters, Kara. 

And you are so sick of it that you could explode, sick of hiding who you are, sick of holding back so you don’t touch her too long or too hard or too… anything.

Like anything with Alex could be too much. 

Except… 

Except she hasn’t spoken to you outside of the DEO and Supergirl matters since it happened. Like she does not remember movie nights and Chinese take out and watching Netflix until godawful hours of the night. 

She’s busy lately, suspiciously busy, her calendar suddenly full of meetings and over time and girls nights out with old college friends you’ve never heard of. Every time you try to call her, she’s busy. 

Every time you try to talk to her in the DEO she shies away like a stray animal kicked one too many times. And all you want to do is follow her like a puppy and beg forgiveness for something you are not and never will be sorry for. 

***

“Open the door!”

It’s a physical thing, the confidence that the Super suit gives you, it must be, because without it you are juggling pizza boxes and soda bottles like a clumsy gazelle trying to knock on the door without dropping the lot. 

“I can kick it down, Alex! You know I can!”

Shuffling and murmuring is your only answer for long moments until she opens the door, clad in shorts and a faded college tee, feet bare and face sheepish. 

“Alright.” It’s half bitten out and resentful, half embarrassed. “Keep your big girl pants on.”

You waste no time, brandishing food and non alcoholic beverages as an offering, both to her and the medication you know she’s on. 

“We need to talk.”

“Nope.” She wastes less time than you. “No, we don’t. Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t shut me out, Alex, please.” And for good measure, you widen your eyes and blink. “I miss you.”

The defeat that sags her shoulders does not feel like a victory, but she waves you in and you bounce over to her couch, sliding boxes onto the small table and making yourself generally at home. The entire place smells like her in ways that make it easier to breathe. 

You work together, the two of you, because you both know when to push and when to pull, so you sit on the too small couch and slowly inch closer together, eating and drinking and watching mindless television. 

Until…

“We can’t do this.”

You look at her; your beautiful, lovely sister with the mouth full of lies. 

“Do what?

Your shoulders are so close that if you turned your head you could snuggle into her neck. 

“Don’t…” She’s struggling, heartbeat ticking a little on the side of fast. “Kara, please, come on, you know wha… I kissed you!”

 

You shrug. 

“And I kissed you back, so what?”

You’re too casual and she’s too tense, she looks at you like you have finally grown the tentacles Leslie wondered about. She looks at you like you’re fourteen years old and don’t know what the commandment ‘chill’ means, _I am excited not overly warm, Alexandra Danvers, my body remains a stable temperature in this moderate climate_.

You work together, the two of you, because you both know when to push and when to pull and her eyes are screaming at you to please, please, just let go of this rope. 

So you do. 

Because Alex is your world and you’ve lost too many worlds already. 

“I’m sorry.” And you are, for so many things. “I should have known it wasn’t real.”

Her eyes search your face, like all your answers are printed there. 

“Kara…” 

Soft and warning, like you don’t know what you’re saying. 

“Just…” You really need to get into the suit, because your every day clothes are letting you down if the wobble of your chin is anything to go by. “Just don’t push me away, ok? I can hide it. I will. Just… don’t make me leave.”

You are thirteen and pushed with loving hands into a pod too small to contain the history of your world. You are fourteen and fifteen and sixteen, too big for this small body, skills so powerful Eliza and Jeremiah keep telling you how many people wanted to cut you open for them. You are twenty five and your beautiful alive sister is yelling at you for saving her life. You are thrown into buildings as your Aunt rejects you. 

You are loved, just never enough, and not how you want to be. 

Alex climbs up on the sofa until she’s on her knees next to you, her front pushing into your side when she places her hands on the sides of your face and pulls you to look at her. 

“I will never let you go.”

The words are everything and nothing you have ever wanted to hear. 

“But you won’t let me love you.”

You have seen a planet shatter and you see echoes of it again in her eyes, the way she breaks and sinks down, a slump against you. 

“I love you, Kara, I’m… I’m just…” Your sister, your beautiful brave, wonderful sister, that has redefined the word hero for you, she admits the one thing that you never thought you’d hear from her lips. “I’m just scared.”

And it’s nothing you have ever thought to consider. 

“Scared? Of me? Of me loving you? How…?”

“How can anyone not be afraid of love?”

You close your eyes, because it’s all too much. The way she says it. The fact that she says it. Your breath is stolen from you. 

And when you look up at her, your hand rises to trace a line down her cheek. 

“You know what I’ve lost, Alex, enough love to choke you. How can you not run to it? How can you not take it when it’s there?”

You are full of love, so much that sometimes you feel you will overflow, and Alex is scared to reach for it, fearing the loss she’s come to accept her entire life. But you refuse to be half a person, hiding in the shadows and watching the world collapse around you. 

And you refuse to be half a relationship, holding back, and never reaching, always too scared to get too close, to touch hands, to look into eyes a little too long. 

So you push her back until you can climb onto her lap and bring your mouth to hers, kissing her until she heaves one long breath and then begins kissing you back. Her hands settling on the curves of your hips makes a mewl come out of your mouth. 

An honest to goodness mewl.

You seriously need your suit. 

***


End file.
